Genre Short Story. Page - 17

s a new and a miraculous revelation superseding the old revelation of fifteen hundred years ago, when Thou didst so repeatedly tell the people: "The truth shall make you free." Behold then, Thy "free" people now!' adds the old man with sombre irony. 'Yea!... it has cost us dearly.' he continues, sternly looking at his victim. 'But we have at last accomplished our task, and--in Thy name.... For fifteen long centuries we had to toil and suffer owing to that

t for my hate, oh scaled and shining One!The sun was setting, etching the green and hazy blue of the forest in brief gold. The waning beams glinted on the thick golden chain which Dion of Attalus twisted continually in his pudgy hand as he sat in the flaming riot of blossoms and flower­-trees which was his garden. He shifted his fat body on his marble seat and glanced furtively about, as if in quest of a lurking enemy. He sat within a circular grove of slender trees, whose interlapping branches

e evolution of warfare made a successful fighting machine something elaborate, expensive, and maintainable by professionals only. Like in the Roman Empire. It took years to train a legionnaire and a lot of money to equip an army and keep it in the field. So Rome became autarchic. However, it was not so expensive a proposition that a rebellious general couldn't put some troops up for a while--or he could pay them with plunder. So you did get civil wars. Later, when the Empire had broken up and

ensor and You.### Craphound ========= Craphound had wicked yard-sale karma, for a rotten, filthy alien bastard. He was too good at panning out the single grain of gold in a raging river of uselessness for me not to like him -- respect him, anyway. But then he found the cowboy trunk. It was two months' rent to me and nothing but some squirrelly alien kitsch-fetish to Craphound. So I did the unthinkable. I violated the Code. I got into a bidding war with a buddy. Never let them tell you that

"Well, to make a long story short, I used to find the little man in his place every morning, always with his black bag, and for nigh unto four months never a day passed without his having his three hours' drive and paying his fare like a man at the end of it. I shifted into new quarters on the strength of it, and was able to buy a new set of harness. I don't say as I altogether swallowed the story of the doctors having recommended him on a hot day to go about in a growler with both windows

"The night can hear," answered Ka-nu obliquely. "There are worlds within worlds. But you may trust me and you may trust Brule, the Spear-slayer. Look!" He drew from his robes a bracelet of gold representing a winged dragon coiled thrice, with three horns of ruby on the head."Examine it closely. Brule will wear it on his arm when he comes to you tomorrow night so that you may know him. Trust Brule as you trust yourself, and do what he tells you to. And in proof of trust,

Barny O'Reirdon the Navigator by Samuel Lover Haddad-Ben-Ahab the Traveller by John Galt Bluebeard's Ghost by Wm. M. Thackeray The Picnic Party by Horace Smith Father Tom and the Pope by Samuel Ferguson Johnny Darbyshire by William Howitt The Gridiron by Samuel Lover The Box Tunnel by Charles Reade

life had shaped itself into that form, and he hadgrown used to it. He had taught himself a language down here,--ifonly to know it by sight, and to have formed his own crude ideas ofits pronunciation, could be called learning it. He had also workedat fractions and decimals, and tried a little algebra; but he was,and had been as a boy, a poor hand at figures. Was it necessary forhim when on duty always to remain in that channel of damp air, andcould he never rise into the sunshine from between

b. The Breslau Textc. The Macnaghten Text and the Bulak Editiond. The same with Mr. Lane's and my VersionAppendix II--Contributions to the Bibliography of the Thousand andOne Nights and their Imitations, By W. F. KirbyThe Book Of TheTHOUSAND NIGHTS AND A NIGHT MA'ARUF THE COBBLER AND HIS WIFE There dwelt once upon a time in the God-guarded city of Cairo acobbler who lived by patching old shoes.[FN#1] His name wasMa'aruf[FN#2] and he had a wife called Fatimah, whom the folk hadnicknamed

eye could reach. In all its vast expanse there was no break but for a single galley, which was slowly making its way from the direction of Sicily and heading for the distant harbour of Carthage.Seen from afar it was a stately and beautiful vessel, deep red in colour, double-banked with scarlet oars, its broad, flapping sail stained with Tyrian purple, its bulwarks gleaming with brass work. A brazen, three-pronged ram projected in front, and a high golden figure of Baal, the God of the